


The Imprisonment of Memories

by anubislover



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Related Fandoms, The Night of the Rabbit (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Corruption, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Daedalic Entertainment, F/M, Guilt, Implied Sexual Content, Imprisonment, Magic-Users, Possessive Behavior, Post-Game(s), Probably the only story for this game here, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anubislover/pseuds/anubislover
Summary: Alice and the White Rabbit. An unforgettable duo. But their story isn't just that of a little girl following a perpetually late bunny into Wonderland. No, it's a tale of a master and apprentice, whose affection and trust is destroyed thanks to corruption and a lust for power.Upon hearing that the Marquis de Hoto had been seen in Mousewood, Alice Liddell hurries to see for herself if her fallen teacher has truly escaped. But what's worse; eternally living with the guilt of having betrayed the mentor she once admired, or the fear that he's returned and is out for revenge? Or perhaps, the knowledge that no matter what, a piece of her heart will always belong to him?





	The Imprisonment of Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Readers, I warn you, I'm not sure how much of this story will make sense if you haven't played the point-and-click adventure game The Night of the Rabbit. There's also major spoilers for the game's ending, so you might want to play the game or watch a let's play on YouTube first. Honestly, you should play it anyway, because it's a beautiful game with amazing music and the Marquis de Hoto is seriously one of my favorite characters ever. But if you want to watch it instead, here's a link to a good longplay that doesn't have any commentary, so you can enjoy the adorable characters without interruption. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6EU_2kwzu4&t=20202s

It had been decades since Alice had visited Mousewood. The charming, miniscule town had been a favorite of hers as a child, when she’d first become an apprentice Treewalker. It was there she learned her first spell, made so many wonderful friends, drank blue juice with the wood dwarves and attended the Treetop Festival.

That was over a century ago, though. The last time she’d visited the miniscule town’s local magician, it was to say goodbye to her teacher, trusting that he was safely contained, and she’d never have to look at those cold, red eyes again. Since then, she’d busied herself with honoring the ideals of the Treewalkers, helping those in need wherever she went, traveling between worlds, never staying in one place for very long.

Now that she was back, she couldn’t even recognize its citizens anymore. Too much time had passed, the mice and hedgehogs and squirrels she might have known long since starting families and dying of old age.

But the town itself was blessedly still the same, which meant she did not have to wander aimlessly, drawing too much attention to herself as she made her way to the entrance of the Magician of Mousewood’s home. A human in a village of mice and squirrels was rather conspicuous, though she noticed she wasn’t getting as many odd looks as she would have expected. Still, she kept a brisk pace, breathing a small sigh of relief when she came to the pumpkin patch. The strange door in the wall beside the massive orange gourds was comfortingly familiar, as was the ledge that led to a hole in a massive glass window.

 _All these years, and he still hasn’t fixed that window? I suppose he must be used to the draft by now,_ Alice thought with a hint of amusement.

Strolling through the makeshift entrance onto the surface of the enormous desk, the young woman glanced around. Despite the long years since she’d last visited, it was comforting that his home hadn’t changed, even if it did still smell faintly of old socks. The tiny armchairs, tea set, and coffee table were still set up for mice-sized visitors, though she doubted he got many. The citizens of the town were cautious of entering the home of what they’d perceive as a giant, and there weren’t many Treewalkers left who could shrink and grow like she could.

 _Then again, there aren’t many Treewalkers left at all,_ was the melancholy thought that drifted through her mind.

There was the distant sound of giant footsteps, and Alice smoothed down the lapels of her blue coat. She’d long ago traded in her blue dress and apron for a sapphire, embroidered tailcoat, grey breeches, and black boots, though she was well aware those who imagined her still pictured the traditional outfit. It was childish, but she didn’t begrudge them that. It was simply how she was remembered.

Memories were a powerful thing. The Marquis had taught her that.

An enormous figure entered through the doorway, a heavy, mauve and yellow blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His bushy chestnut beard and long hair were tussled and tangled, as if he’d just gotten out of bed, though his eyes were bright and alert. Despite her small size, he immediately noticed her on the table, the blue of her coat standing out brilliantly against the earthy tones of his home.

“Alice?” he murmured in disbelief, voice still as gentle and soothing as she remembered.

She managed to smile, though she knew it was shaky and not as warm as she would have liked. “Hello, Aro,” she said. “It’s been a long time.”

The Old Magician of Mousewood, Aro Molena, had been a dear friend, from her apprenticeship to beyond, but after her last visit, it was hard to look at him without the feeling of crushing guilt and regret.

Some wounds never healed, no matter how much time passed.

But she was there for a reason, so she’d endure.

In a blink, the magician had shrunken down to her size. She was grateful; she hadn’t been looking forward to the inevitable neck cramps she would have gotten staring up at him. Now that he was up close, she thought she could see the barest hint of a smile through the tangled mess of hair around his mouth. “It has. Close to forty years, I think?”

“Most likely. I admit I haven’t kept track.” Why bother when one didn’t age, and the heartache never faded? The passage of time brought nothing but misery, so she’d found it best to ignore it as much as possible.

It was much easier to tell when Aro was frowning, especially when his normally kind eyes became stern. “Yet you admit awareness that it has indeed been a long time. Several decades, with not so much as a letter, phone call, or astral projection. Which leaves me to wonder what persuaded you to visit now.”

A slight blush came to her fair cheeks, and her blue eyes dropped to the floor for a moment. Her was as astute as ever, and she did feel a little bit guilty about not contacting him. But if he wanted to skip the pleasantries and get right down to business, she wouldn’t argue.

“I…I heard a rumor. That the Marquis de Hoto had returned to Mousewood.”

“Did you, now?”

“I asked some of the villagers, and they confirmed that a large, white rabbit had been seen with a young, human boy. An apprentice Treewalker, they said.”

“This is true.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Well, how could someone return when they were never supposed to leave in the first place? Did he escape? You promised to keep him contained, Aro!”

The old man gestured to the small chairs. “He has not escaped, Alice. He is still my prisoner, trapped in the bottle. Sit; I feel there is a long story you must hear.”

XXX

As Aro finished his tale, Alice leaned back in her chair, letting out a deep, relieved breath. The thought that her old master had escaped had chilled her to the bone, but the knowledge that Zaroff, his last apprentice, had caused so much damage wasn’t much better. At least there had been someone to prevent it, to right what had gone wrong. Such a daunting first task for one so young. “So, the boy is home safely?”

“Yes. The woodsprite confirmed it. Jeremiah is back in school, enjoying a normal life with his mother and father, though I doubt this is the last we’ve seen of him. He has potential in the arts. Though, the Leprechaun did tell me he’d given him the skills to become a plumber. Perhaps he’d rather take up that trade.”

“If the boy’s dream is to become a magician, it’s our duty to aid him, plumbing skills or no.” The thought of new Treewalker coming into the fold made her lips turn up in a smile. She’d have to meet this Jerry Hazelnut, perhaps teach him a few of her own ticks. With his original master nothing but a memory, it would be up to her and Aro to guide him in his future studies.

“We had best leave him be, for now,” the old magician cautioned. “His heroics have earned him a rest, I think. Let him adjust again to school and classes and homework, to early bedtimes and too-short weekends.”

“Yes,” she chuckled. “I can say from experience, after a few months of that, magician training will come as a relief.”

“It has been some time since you were in school,” he reminded her. “Things have likely changed.”

Her smile fell as her good humor evaporated. “Some things don’t. I’ve visited my old world, Aro, and children are still discouraged from following their dreams, mocked and derided for believing in magic and other worlds and events not in their history books. That world is no place for a Treewalker; it’s no wonder Zaroff went mad.”

“It’s not the only reason.”

“I know that!” she snapped, knocking back the remains of her tea like a shot of whiskey. “That doesn’t change the fact that this Jeremiah Hazelnut needs to start his training in earnest; there’s only a few of us left, Aro, and I won’t let that boy’s potential go to waste.”

“I have no intention of it,” he placated. “I simply wish to give him some time.”

Tense silence lingered between them for a few moments before Alice finally said, “I need to see him.”

“I’m assuming you don’t mean Jeremiah,” Aro said solemnly.

“No. You’ve told me the real Marquis is still trapped in his bottle, but I must see for myself. Otherwise, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep at night.”

“It’s impossible to break the bottle from the inside, Alice. There’s no way he can get out.”

“Nothing is impossible, remember? Not for him.”

Knowing eyes studied her critically. “Are you certain that’s the only reason you wish to see him?” When the blonde couldn’t meet his gaze, he gave a gloomy sigh. “I understand you may still hold some affection for your old teacher, but he’s not the same Treewalker he once was.”

“I know,” she replied solemnly.

“I checked on him just the other day, and can promise, he is still securely contained. Is my word not enough? What reason do you have to see him yourself?”

She glared at him, gripping the handle of her teacup so tightly Aro thought it might crack. “What reason do you have for stopping me from seeing it with my own eyes? Don’t tell me you think I’d free him?”

“Of course not. I merely wish to protect you from further heartbreak. You two were close.” He paused, studying her face carefully. “Perhaps even closer than master and apprentice?”

Alice managed to keep her expression blank. “Whatever our relationship was, the fact remains that if he gets out, we’re the ones he’ll come after. We pose the greatest threat, and he’s had forty years to plan his revenge. I’d rather be able sleep at night instead of jumping at the slightest sound, paranoid that one of the darkest and most powerful magicians is after me.”

“Is it truly fear that will keep you up, or guilt that you had to betray your beloved rabbit?”

Placing the cup on its saucer hard enough to give a worrisome _clink_ , she stood up, glaring at him. “I did not come here looking for a fight, Aro, but you’re swiftly heading in that direction. I’d suggest you go back to sleeping or reading or whatever it is you do all day and let me see the Marquis. Once done, I’ll take my leave.”

“I did not mean to upset you, child,” he said soothingly.

His words did just the opposite. “I am not a child!” she shouted, fists clenched, magical energy crackling through the air.

“No, you are not,” he replied sadly, staring at the dregs that clung to the bottom of his own teacup. “Not for over a hundred years, even if your magic has kept you eternally young.”

Some of her anger deflated. She really couldn’t afford an argument, especially not with him. There weren’t many Treewalkers left, and even fewer as old as she was. Now that she bothered to look, she realized that Aro had aged since she’d last seen him; his brown hair was peppered with grey, and more wrinkles had formed under his eyes. Perhaps he slept so much because he needed to conserve his magical energy, and astral projections were a more efficient way of checking up on the various worlds than using the Portal Trees. Perhaps, in another forty years, she’d return to find that he, too, had finally passed on.

No, she hadn’t come looking for a fight, and there was no need for her to start one with him. Time and tragedy had taken away so many of the ones she loved; why alienate those few she had left? “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “Some days, I wish we’d had never cast that spell. Never let my story be told.”

“You couldn’t have known that the book would be so popular, nor that the spell would be so powerful.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Besides, it was hardly an accurate representation of your training. I was certain the liberties that were taken would keep the spell from working at all.”

“Such a spell couldn’t function if it relied on accuracy,” she replied, the tips of her fingers absently stroking the spout of the teapot. “Stories gain power with each retelling, but as time goes on, details are muddled, actions embellished, and some pieces are simply forgotten. What the spell required was that the casters become engrained in people’s memories through the characters.”

“Well, you certainly succeeded in that,” Aro admitted. “I doubt there’s a human alive that doesn’t know of the little girl who followed the white rabbit. Still, it was an ambitious spell, even for him. Many have tried and failed. Perhaps that is why.”

“Probably. All the best stories get embellished, so he used that to our advantage. Even in my old, magic-free world, people still talk of great heroes slaying dragons, when in fact is was nothing but an over-grown lizard. The truth is rarely as interesting.” A small, honest smile came to her lips and her stiff shoulders relaxed. “And it wasn’t all wrong. I did follow a white rabbit with a waistcoat into a wonderous world, where I had many adventures.”

She still fondly remembered the day she’d first met the Marquis de Hoto; he’d offered to teach her magic, to lead her through the Portal Trees and teach her in the ways of the Treewalkers. She’d eagerly agreed, letting him whisk her away to Mousewood, then other worlds where she’d met such fantastic creatures and discovered marvelous spells.

 _Come along, Alice Liddell,_ he’d said in that chipper, aristocratic voice. _We don’t want to be late for the adventure of a lifetime, do we?_

 _Wait for me!_ her ten-year-old self had called, chasing after him to the Portal Tree. _Will you really teach me magic?_

 _Magic, and so much more,_ he’d replied, vibrant red eyes crinkling in amusement _. The are infinite worlds and possibilities out there for us to explore!_

No, she didn’t regret meeting him; just that she hadn’t been there to stop him from becoming a twisted mockery of the charming, eccentric mentor she’d known and loved. Taking a deep breath, she declared, “I just wish to ensure he’s well and truly trapped. If you want, you can stay nearby. Chaperone us if you want. But I’m not leaving until I can be certain the Portal Worlds are safe.”

Sensing her resolve hadn’t faltered, the old magician gave a reluctant nod. “The bottle is kept on the top shelf of my cupboard in the next room. Do you need help?”

Alice shook her head murmuring an enchantment, the familiar spell making her skin tingle pleasantly. “No, I can manage on my own.”

In an instant she had transformed into a swarm of beautiful blue butterflies. As she fluttered into the next room, she heard Aro murmur, “I hope you’re right.”

XXX

In her butterfly form, it was easy for her to enter the old cupboard through the tiny crack left in the door. Reforming, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, that small opening allowing nothing more than a thin line of light. Still, it was enough to take in her surroundings. The cupboard was dusty and smelled slightly of dried herbs and moth balls. From the look of things, it hadn’t been properly cleaned in a long time. If that were the case, she was certain the lower shelves housed dull, half-read books, frayed mittens, expired potions, and other assorted magical brik-a-brak. But the top shelf was cluttered with empty banishing bottles, each marked with the familiar magical symbol of the Treewalkers.

Taking a deep breath, Alice’s eyes turned to the single occupied bottle, the light illuminating the figure from behind, giving a rather eerie glow.

It was him. The Marquis de Hoto. One of the greatest magicians to ever walk between worlds, reduced to nothing but a captive animal.

That didn’t calm her nerves any, though. His black, foreboding armor gave him an intimidating silhouette, even as he sat, cross-legged, inside his crystal prison. It reminded her of the samurai she’d seen in the Foxes’ world, though it carried an industrial influence. Four swords were strapped to his back, and for a moment, she wondered why Aro had let him keep them. Then again, the only way to do that would be to let him out, and that was an even greater risk. His mask completely obscured his face, black and bronze lending no hint to once sweet, comforting visage that lay beneath. Yet what Alice found herself most focused on were his ears. Instead of being upright and alert, they were tied back. It was surprising how such a simple thing could completely alter his appearance; she remembered how often she’d had to chase after him, those long, perky ears the only trace as he dashed ahead of her through tall grass and crowded town squares.

She found herself grateful for it. This meeting would be easier to handle if she could pretend he was a different person, not the mentor that had been so dear to her.

“Hello, Rabbit,” she said softly. As a child, calling out to “The Marquis de Hoto” had been a tedious mouthful, so she’d given him the nickname. He’d been annoyed, at first, but eventually come around to it, even regarding it as a term of endearment.

“Alice,” came the Marquis’ posh voice, distorted by the mask’s vented mouthpiece. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all yours, I assure you,” was her reply, keeping her tone neutral. Yes, this would be easier than she’d imagined; as intimidating as it made him sound, the mask’s distortion made his voice so different. Still recognizable to her, the woman who had once hung on his every word, cherished each compliment and lesson he’d given, but changed enough that, if she tried hard enough, she could pretend she was speaking to someone else.

“How cruel, my dear. Have you grown that cold? Do you not have a kind word for your beloved teacher?” he mocked.

“I’m not the one who earned the name ‘The Cold One,’” she countered, studying his prison. Smooth as polished stone, the banishing bottle had not a crack or blemish against its surface, only marked by the symbol of the Treewalkers. Its enchantment still felt strong, the slight pressure of its magical energy lingering in the air, even after forty years. Still, she was mindful to keep a few feet between them; powerful magicians could still cast a few minor spells from inside, and she knew the Marquis would have spent the past several decades testing such limits, planning for the slightest opportunity he might have to free himself. He was a forest pond, still and deep, but there was no telling what beasts might lurk beneath the surface, ready to devour the unwary. It was best to stay vigilant and keep her distance, physically and emotionally.

“I care little for what lesser creatures call me.”

“Don’t you care how you’re remembered?”

Even through the mask, she could feel his gaze sweep over her, assessing, observing. Searching for weakness. “How do _you_ remember me, Alice? The cruel monster, or the brilliant mentor who saved you from your dreary existence?”

“Dreary?” She couldn’t keep the slightly insulted inflection from her voice. “Here I recall you talking about how brave human children were for enduring the hard benches and leaky pens thrust upon us during school.”

He gave a dark laugh. “I said what I had to to get what I wanted. I was eager for an apprentice, and you caught my eye. I could sense your inner strength, a desire to learn that could barely be contained by your small body. Such power was mine to cultivate, to shape and mold as I saw fit. I wasn’t going to let a little thing like your world’s ridiculous need to stifle children’s dreams and passion get in my way.”

“Well, you got what you wanted, and look at where you are now.”

“Yes, I suppose my brilliant success was my undoing. Then again, who else but I could put a stop to the greatest Treewalker to ever exist.”

“Don’t give yourself so much credit, Rabbit. I was the one that beat you,” she snapped defensively. Immediately she realized her error, cursing her quick temper. _Oh, well done, Alice,_ she thought sarcastically. _Wonderful of you to remind him of your part in his imprisonment. Perhaps you should just uncork the bottle right now so he can kill you?_

When he didn’t respond, she shifted her feet restlessly, resisting the urge to nervously fiddle with the ends of her coat. She had to keep her wits about her; the Marquis had always been far too clever for his own good, and she couldn’t afford to show even the slightest hint of weakness, because he would pounce on it like a hungry fox.

Eventually, he cocked his head, making his leer utterly obvious as he looked her up and down. “You’re looking well, for a woman of your age. Are you using a glamour?”

“No. It seems my story simply continues to be popular. You should know this; I doubt you’ve aged, either.”

Slowly, he reached up and touched his mask. It released with an ominous hiss, revealing the face that was so familiar to her, yet practically belong to a stranger, now. But she was right; he hadn’t aged. His fur was still white as snow, his pink nose twitching as it took in the scents around him. One eye had been blinded, covered by a dark, leather patch, but the other was as crimson and clear as the day she’d met him. It was an eye of one who had seen countless worlds and his gaze was heavy and penetrating as if he could see into her soul. It made her breath catch, and she hoped he couldn’t sense the fluttering of her heart.

“I suppose I haven’t. The charm we put on Mr. Dodgson’s little book seems to have held up remarkably well.” Alice shivered at his familiar voice, no longer distorted by the mask. It was posh and crisp, that of a true aristocrat. She could feel her resolve weaken at the dulcet tone, the voice that still haunted her dreams and memories.

“It was one of my more brilliant ideas, I must say,” he continued. “Each retelling brings forth a new surge of energy, increasing our magical powers. Yet even I never expected it would gain such a devout following. For creatures who have forsaken magic, you humans do so love to read about it.” His deep chuckle echoed through the musty cupboard. “At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re practically immortal. Though, it makes going home rather difficult, doesn’t it?” he sneered, eye piercing.

Swallowing harshly, she said, “Home is where I’m remembered. Isn’t that what you taught me? Clearly, there’s no shortage of that.”

“But those aren’t memories, are they? The humans only know the stories, not the woman who inspired them. All your real memories died with your family. And after more than a century, how many are left that know you in the other worlds?” He shook his head in a manner that almost resembled pity. “Poor Alice. So lost and alone, unable to die, left to wander throughout the worlds until the end of time.”

She tried not to let his words affect her, but he knew her too well. Her home was long gone; England still existed, but it was too much changed. Even the other worlds she’d visited had become strange to her. Some saw her eternal youth as a blessing, but really, it was a painful curse. She’d outlived her family and many friends, and had to watch others, like her dear White Rabbit, fall into darkness. The memories and admiration of her story kept her alive and powerful, even a century later, but sometimes, she wished she could burn every copy of _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_.

“At least I can move around freely instead of spending eternity stuck in a bottle,” she retorted, blinking away the sting she felt behind her eyes. It wouldn’t do to cry in front of the Marquis.

He casually rested his chin on his fist. “Speaking of, I’m curious as to why you’re here. Is there a tea party in Mousewood? Looking to make me your plus one?”

She snorted, crossing her arms. “There’s no party in any world that would convince me to set you free.”

“Pity. I recall rather fondly the soirees we’d attended together. Dancing under the stars, laughing with friends old and new.” His eye crinkled as he smirked. “Remember the ball the White Queen threw for us? You looked radiant in your gown, an elegant vision in silver and blue. How many men asked you to dance that night?” When she didn’t answer, he merely chuckled. “Enough to make me terribly jealous, I recall. Those worms didn’t deserve an esteemed Treewalker like yourself.”

“I’ve come to realize, neither did you.” Once upon a time, she would have preened under his praise, blushing at her charming mentor’s declarations that no man deserved her. It had been sweet, once upon a time.

Now, such words took on a much darker meaning, one that reminded her that this wasn’t the same magician who had taken her under his wing, shown her new worlds, and taught her to walk through portals, all with a dashing twinkle in his eye.

The way he held his hand to his heart in false hurt was almost playful. “How cruel. I taught you everything you know, made you the woman you are today. You were my first apprentice, and certainly my best. My living masterpiece. I think it’s safe to say I’m the only one who deserves your company.”

“Yet this is the first time you’ve seen me in forty years.”

“And how many people have you actually made friends with? Do you linger in every world you visit, getting to know those you’ve saved? Or do you move on when the job is done without so much as a ‘goodbye?’” He laughed cynically. “I know you, Alice; know your heart's deepest desires. You're here because you missed me. Missed our conversations, our closeness. You're starved for your mentor's attention, no matter what I've done, but you can't bring yourself to admit it because that would mean acknowledging that I'm more than just a monster.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. It's not enough to set you free,” she said with more bravado than she actually felt, swallowing against the tightness in her throat.

“Perhaps you’d prefer a more pragmatic reason,” he said. “Zaroff was a greater threat than any of us could have anticipated. The Consortium Squamata is hardly gone, either. The portals need as many protectors as it can get, to counteract any future dangers.”

“No,” she said sternly. “You’re the greatest threat we could possibly face. I won’t unleash you on the world.”

“I’ve done much good for the worlds, Alice. Surely, that has not been forgotten?”

“Your sins far outweigh your heroics now. You’ve hurt so many, betrayed everything the Treewalkers stood for.” This time, she couldn’t fight back the sting as tears formed in her eyes. “You killed our friends, Rabbit! Fellow Treewalkers!”

“They dared to challenge me. Was I supposed to lay down and let them kill me first?”

“You were using forbidden magic! How did you expect them to respond? It's the mission of every Treewalker to protect the Portal Trees and the creatures of the connected worlds from harm. We serve the greater good, not our own whims."

"You believe what I did wasn't for the greater good?"

"How could it be? Whole worlds have been reduced to ruins, and you practically wiped us out! Aro and I are the only ones left, now. I've spent the past several decades trying to undo the damage you've caused, watching those I try to help run away in fear the second I so much as mention Treewalkers.”

The Marquis was unmoved. “Only the strong are worthy of our magic. I culled the herd, removed the weeds from the garden so the flowers could grow. The fact that the Treewalkers were unable to recover is your own fault. There are still those out there with great potential you could have taken on as apprentices, like that human boy.” He rubbed his chin, considering. “Yes, that boy has remarkable inner strength. He’d make a fine apprentice."

Fear shot through her. Whether or not she had personally met Jerry Hazelnut, she couldn't let him be hunted down by her old teacher, no matter the rabbit's intentions. Quickly, she changed the subject. “What about the Moths? Don't tell me that was for 'the greater good.' They’d long been our allies, but you left them to die! Their homeworld had completely frozen over, and you did nothing! Why? Because they didn’t worship the ground you walked on?”

That drew his attention back to her. “They were weak. Why should we help those who cannot help themselves?”

“That’s exactly why you should have helped them,” she snarled, a pair of hot tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. His treatment of the poor Moths had been what called her into action, convinced her that her mentor had truly changed. “Treewalkers help those in need. You always told me that, but then you became the sort of monster we always fought against.”

“‘Treewalkers help those in need,’ do they? My need to get out of this accursed bottle is great, yet you won’t help me.” His crimson eye narrowed accusingly. “Then again, you’re the one who put me here. Used that lingering affection I had for you, the remaining scraps of my trust, and abused it, imprisoning me, letting Aro shove me into the back of a dusty cupboard to be forgotten. You’re not as noble as people think.”

Guilt once again twisted inside her. Yes, she’d been the one to trick him into opening the enchanted bottle during their battle. Aro had offered to do it himself, but she’d known her old teacher would have seen right through the old magician’s tactic. The Marquis had not yet tried to harm her; whether it was due to his supposed affection or because he hadn’t yet seen her as a threat, she didn’t know, but she’d refused to let her feelings get in the way of what was right.

That didn’t make it any easier to look him in the eye, though. Didn’t erase the happy memories of her dear friend, her beloved teacher, and didn’t wipe away the look of fury and betrayal he’d given her when he’d realized he’d been tricked. She saw it in her dreams, his bitter curses ringing in her ears as she surveyed the damage he’d done to so many innocent creatures who had done nothing more than cross his path.

“Maybe not, but if I hadn’t, you would have come after me eventually. You must have known I wouldn’t have stood aside and let you keep harming innocents.”

“I would have come after you, but not to fight. I’d ask you to join me, to come back to my side and start a new, stronger age of Treewalkers. I never would have harmed you, and you used that to trap me!” he snarled, eye flashing with a wrathful fire.

Molten-hot tears spilled down her cheeks without her consent as she angrily took two steps forward. “I didn’t want to hurt you, either, but there was no other choice. You had to be stopped, even if it broke my heart to do it.”

“And how has that been working out for you, little Alice? Do you sleep well at night, curled up in your bed, secure in the knowledge that you stopped the greatest Treewalker that had ever lived? Or do you lay awake, the guilt that you betrayed your beloved teacher eating you up from the inside?”

“I did what I had to!” she insisted.

“So you say, but your heart isn’t in it. Now tell me, Alice, why did you come here? If it was to check that I was still contained, you can clearly see for yourself that I’m safe and sound in my prison. Did you miss my company? Wanted to assure your guilty conscience that I’m still the monster you perceive me to be? Or is it something more?”

“Why did you do it?” she cried, voice choked and hoarse. His silhouette blurred as tears momentarily blinded her, and the way her throat had tightened made it hard to breath. Slightly dizzy from it all, she stumbled, taking a half-step forward to catch herself. “You knew better than to look into the Mirror of Shadows. You knew it was designed to corrupt souls. You knew, and you did it anyway. That’s why I’m here, Rabbit; I want to know how my so-called brilliant teacher could be so stupid?!”

Distantly, a loud knock reverberated through the enormous cottage, shaking Alice out of her thoughts. She heard Aro arise from his spot by the cupboard to answer the door.

 _So, he had been chaperoning us,_ she thought sadly. _Does he trust me so little?_

The Marquis’ lone eye softened, becoming almost mournful. “Alice…” he murmured, “I was…arrogant, I admit. I believed myself stronger than the Mirror’s influence. Yet the things it showed me were incomparable; I had thought I had reached the peak of my abilities, that there was nothing left for me to learn. How wrong I was. I’m forever grateful I gazed into the Mirror, for it showed me I still had much to do. That despite everything, I have the potential to become greater than I already was.”

“You didn’t need the Mirror for that,” she whispered, furiously wiping at her eyes. “I always believed in you. There’s always something left, more to discover and learn.”

“Yes, I see that now,” the Marquis said, bringing Alice’s attention back to him. Carefully, almost hesitantly, he placed his white, paw-like hand against the smooth glass. “I also see that I was foolish to ever let you go. If only you had been there instead of Zaroff. Perhaps, if I’d kept you by my side, none of this would have happened.”

Alice shook her head, refusing to let herself be drawn anymore into _what ifs_ and _might have beens_. She’d tortured herself with such thoughts enough over the past forty years. “I doubt that’s true, but there’s nothing that can be done now.”

“You don’t believe I could change my ways?”

“No.”

“For you, perhaps I could. Forty years trapped in a bottle gives one plenty of time to reflect. To realize how hollow my existence has become. Why would I wish to alienate the one person guaranteed to live as long as I? That spell I cast on your story was my gift to you, a way we could be together forever. You are my favorite apprentice, my dearest friend; my Alice. Not even the Mirror of Shadows could change how much I care for you.” His voice dropped to a pleading whisper, “Free me, Alice, and I swear on the First Tree that I will never leave your side. Neither of us will ever be lonely again.”

For a moment, she considered it. Her life had become so lonely. So many friends and loved ones had passed on, and she was too afraid to form new bonds, even as her heart ached with sorrow. And despite her many accomplishments as a Treewalker, she had never been happier than when she traveled with the Marquis, exploring the many worlds together.

His voice caressed her ears as he pressed closer to the side of his prison. “Think about it, Alice. We could start anew; we’ll go on adventures, perhaps discover new worlds and spells. There’s still so much for us to explore, infinite portals and possibilities. Perhaps, one day, we might even find one we could call home.”

Slowly, as if in a trance, Alice closed the remaining distance, placing her hand to the outside of the bottle. It was cool and smooth against her skin. It wouldn’t take much for her to break it. A little shove, a single crack would do. Maybe it was okay to free him. Maybe, if she were at his side, he’d return to the noble magician she’d admired. She could guide him back to the right path, keep him in line, and threats like Zaroff would never even dare to arise. So long as they were together, they could accomplish anything.

She looked into his eye. The vibrant red was so familiar, so comforting. The knowledge of a thousand adventures danced within them, and she recalled how they would sparkle whenever she was clever enough to solve a problem on her own or came up with a solution he hadn’t thought of. They’d made an amazing team.

But she also saw cunning that his honied words and false promises couldn’t hide. His clever mind had been overtaken by darkness, his virtues corrupted while his faults enhanced. The Marquis knew her strengths and her weaknesses, and in that moment, she knew there was no way she’d be able to control him.

The brilliant, noble Marquis de Hoto she’d once loved was lost. In his place was The Cold One, merciless and cruel.

Her hand slid down, resting over the same spot as his. It was the closest she’d ever get to touching him again. “I miss you, Rabbit.”

“And I you. Please, let me out, and we can be together again, just like old times.”

Mournfully, she pressed her forehead against the bottle’s chilled surface, unable to meet his eyes any longer. “I wish we could, but I’m sorry; that’s simply not possible.”

Something caught her attention, then; at the base of the bottle, just peeking out from under his narrow, furry foot, was a crack. It was so small, it might not have even been noticeable, but Alice knew the perfectly smooth, enchanted crystal wasn’t supposed to break; at least, not from the inside.

Her eyes widened, head jerking up to meet the Marquis’ intense, crimson gaze. “Nothing is impossible,” he whispered triumphantly as the tiny crack immediately began to spread, long, thin lines fracturing the surface until the whole bottle shattered with a deafening _crack_.

Shocked, Alice stepped back, hoping to gain some distance, but her former teacher was too fast, grasping her arms and pulling her against him.

“How?” she asked hoarsely, staring at the crystal fragments scattered across the cupboard’s aged wood.

His smirk was cold and devious, pride glittering in his ruby eye. “Don’t you remember my lessons? Traps like these always have a way to allow the ones who make them to escape, lest they become trapped themselves. When Aro allowed me to help that boy, it weakened the crystal’s spell. Not much, but just enough that I was able to manipulate that failsafe, to make a little crack. The rest was simply biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment. How fortunate you were here when it came. It saves me the trouble of hunting you down.”

The first syllables of a spell left her lips, but the Marquis wrapped a hand around her throat, squeezing tightly, cutting off her air supply. “None of that. The old magician will sense my escape any moment, and I’d rather we be on our way.”

“Rabbit…” she rasped, blue eyes pleading.

“Hush now, my dear. Why don’t you rest for a while?” The familiar words of a sleep spell left his lips, and she instinctively steeled her mind, fighting against it. His escape might have caught her off-guard, but she’d be damned if she was going to simply lay back and let him kill her.

Her arm shot out, fist slamming into the rabbit’s pink nose. He reeled back; the blow hadn’t been particularly painful, but it was quite the shock to see the seemingly delicate woman resort to fisticuffs. His surprise was all she needed, though, as it caused his grip around her throat to loosen just enough that she was able to twist free.

Darting back a few steps, she shouted a quick incantation. Her hands glowed purple, as did the crystal shards scattered across the floor. In less than a second, they we in the air, pointed at the Marquis with deadly intent. Even quicker, they shot down at him like a rain of arrows.

But the magician was ready. With little more than a wave of his hand, the shards bounced off an invisible shield, scattering, impaling themselves into the floor and cupboard doors. Alice was too busy blocking the glass spears that came her way to call up another spell, so there was nothing she could do to avoid him leaping in front of her, once again wrapping his hand around her neck to prevent any further incantations. In retaliation, she threw a second punch, but he caught it in his free hand, though he did wince as a hard kick caught him in the stomach.

Annoyed with her struggles, the Marquis lifted her by the throat, slamming her into a nearby bottle. The back of her skull struck the glass with a sickening _crack_ , and she continued to choke against the hand around her trachea. Though the protective charms on her coat prevented any damage to her major organs, jagged shards of the shattered crystal pierced the exposed skin of her hands and neck, small rivulets of blood staining the dusty wood beneath her. The mumbled incantation could be faintly heard through the ringing in her ears, but she was too dazed from the pain to resist this time. What felt like a heavy mist settled in her mind, luring her towards the shores of sleep. As her eyes closed, she saw him shake his head sadly. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Alice, but we have no time to waste. I promise to make it up to you later.”

 _Make it up to me? I thought he was going to kill me?_ Alice wondered as her body went limp, finally submitting to the siren song of the sleep spell.

Despite their proclaimed lack of time, he took a moment to gently tuck a lock of blonde hair behind the woman’s ear. She’d always been a pretty child, but she’d grown into a true beauty as she’d reached adulthood. The once round face had lost its baby fat, revealing high cheekbones and a delicate jaw. Her throat, though now sporting several small cuts, was long and pale, the skin soft under his touch even as he’d choked her. She still smelled of flowers, too; the fragrance of roses, peonies, and lilies cut through the dust and mildew to tickle his nose delightfully. Underneath, though, was something even more tantalizing, a familiar scent that was just so familiar, so temptingly _Alice_. A baser part of him wished to bury his face in her neck, to take great, heaving gulps of it so it would eternally linger in his lungs.

He hadn’t lied; he’d been quite jealous when men had vied for her attention, though at the time he hadn’t quite understood why. When he’d gazed upon the Mirror of Shadows, though, he’d realized that he’d always been quite possessive of her, unwilling to risk anyone stealing her attention.

After forty years trapped in a bottle, forced to endure the twin frustrations of boredom and loneliness, he was even less willing to share.

Zaroff had craved hundreds of admirers. The Marquis only wanted one.

Easily lifting the young woman into his arms, the former Treewalker turned around just as the cupboard door was flung open. Aro’s jaw dropped at the sight of the Marquis de Hoto, free from the banishing bottle, holding his bleeding and unconscious apprentice bridal-style.

“Love to stay and chat, old friend, but I’m afraid I must tend to dear Alice’s wounds. You understand,” he said in a chipper tone. “Oh, and thank you for letting me meet that boy; young Jeremiah Hazelnut may be of supreme use to me.”

“Wait!” the old magician cried, giant hand flailing out in a futile attempt to grab the armor-clad rabbit.

But he was too late, the Marquis having vanished into thin air before his fingertips could even reach him.

Grasping futilely as the spot the former Treewalker had occupied, Aro growled before slamming his fist against the wood in frustration, making the remaining bottles clink and clatter. He should never have let Alice see him. He’d trusted she would never set her old teacher free, but he should have known the Marquis had been planning something. Now, they were gone, and he didn’t know where.

More worryingly, he didn’t know what the Marquis planned to do with the woman. Despite her betrayal, he hadn’t killed her outright, instead taking her with him in his escape. So what would he do? Forty years was a long time to plan his revenge. Did he kidnap her so he could take his time, make her suffer as he killed her slowly? Did he plan to torture her for information? Would he use her as a hostage? For a creature as corrupted as him, the possibilities were endless.

Of course, that meant there was also the possibility he didn’t intend to harm her. There had always been a strong bond between the Marquis and Alice; she’d diligently followed him since childhood, and even after she’d set off on her own, the Treewalker had never been shy about referring to her as his favorite student. They’d danced together at every Treetop Festival, sometimes refusing any other partner so they could spend all night in each other’s company. More than once, Aro had caught them curled up against each other, books of spells scattered about, having fallen asleep while researching long into the night. Anytime Alice had been wounded during an adventure, the rabbit would pace and fret, often refusing to eat or sleep until he knew she was fine.

A shiver went down his spine as he realized that his old friend’s fondness for the woman, like so much of him, might have been turned into something dark and twisted. Forty years was a long time to be alone in a bottle; had his affection turned into an obsession? His need to protect her into possessive jealousy? Neither of them would die of old age; it was quite possible that the Marquis could be content to simply hide away for the next hundred years or more, his former apprentice his eternal prisoner.

Suddenly, he feared Alice might have been better off with a Marquis that wanted her dead.

Aro ran a wrinkled hand though his hair, berating himself for his part in all this. He should never have let her in that cupboard. Shouldn’t have blindly trusted that the bottle’s magic would be enough to contain such a dangerous magician. Shouldn’t have let an unexpected visit from Plato the mail frog distract him.

Said frog stared at him from the table, shocked. He hadn’t seen much; he’d just been able to make out an armored figure carrying the human lady that had been wandering around town earlier before they both vanished. But the pieces of glass sticking out of the cupboard door, not to mention the usually calm magician’s frustration, told him what had happened was beyond serious.

Furthermore, the armored figure had mentioned Jerry.

“Is…is everything all right?” he croaked timidly.

The old human turned around, face strained with anger and worry.

“We must bring Jeremiah back,” he whispered.

“Bring back Jerry? But he’s in school!”

“That no longer matters; a powerful and dangerous being has just gotten loose, and I fear it’s no longer safe for him there.”

A shiver ran up from his flippers to his nostrils. That dark figure had certainly looked scary, even from across the giant room. If the Old Magician of Mousewood said he was a threat, Plato was inclined to believe him. He’d find a way to go through the Portal Tree himself to bring his friend back if he had to. Anything to keep the boy safe. Still, that was only half his concern at the moment. “What about that lady?” he asked. “Who was she? Why did he take her?”

Shaking his head, Aro practically collapsed onto his bed. “Her name was Alice Liddell. She, too, is a Treewalker; the Marquis de Hoto’s first apprentice, in fact. The one who stopped his reign of terror."

“Do ya think he’ll hurt her? He said he was gonna tend to her wounds. That must mean she's safe, right?”

Looking out the window, he stared mournfully at the flash in the distance, telling him that the Marquis had already escaped through one of the Portal Trees. “I do not know. However, I fear she’s in the greatest danger of us all.”

XXX

At the roots of the Portal Tree, the Marquis checked over his sleeping captive. The cuts on her skin were blessedly shallow, and there was no bleeding from where she’d hit her head. Once they were in a more secure hiding place, he’d cast a proper healing spell, but for now, he was content that she was in no danger.

He wanted her alive, after all. He hadn’t lied when he’d said the years of captivity had given him time to reflect. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do with her, though. She had betrayed him, been the cause of his imprisonment. Certainly, some form of punishment was in order.

But he also wanted to see her look at him like she used to; full of admiration and love, eager to follow him anywhere, no matter how dangerous the path might be. He wanted her by his side again, their powers continuing to grow as their story was retold over and over. He imagined their combined presence might inspire even more retellings; after all, was there a more recognizable pair than Alice and the White Rabbit?

With a satisfied smile, he slowly stroked her soft cheek. “Rest well, dear Alice. I promise, when you awaken, all will be as it should. Perhaps we’ll even embark on our greatest adventure yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> I 100% subscribe to the theory that Alice Liddell was the Marquis de Hoto's first apprentice, and he's the White Rabbit from her story, and nothing is going to convince me otherwise unless Daedalic Entertainment releases a sequel. Which they need to anyway.


End file.
